


you should have known (secretly i think you knew)

by Eorlingas



Series: treacherous [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:53:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4983592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eorlingas/pseuds/Eorlingas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ward just has time to utter the words <em>Hydra’s here</em> into his comms device before she’s at his elbow. She doesn’t even look at him, just orders what Ward manages to understand in his halting Portuguese as a vodka soda.</p>
<p>“So, Grant,” she begins with that smile that used to make his mouth dry and his palms sweaty. “What’s shaking?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	you should have known (secretly i think you knew)

**Author's Note:**

> Posted originally on my Tumblr, which you can find a link to in my profile. From the prompt 'Skyeward + enemies with benefits'.

The first time it happens it’s an accident.

Well, not an accident. It’s not like Ward slips and falls and _whoops_ , he’s fucking Skye. But that would almost be a preferable explanation to what actually happens.

He’s at a club in Rio waiting for his team to make contact with the rumored-to-be Inhuman club owner. The bass is so loud he can barely hear himself think, but he picks up the quiet, steady beat the second she sets foot in the place.

Ward just has time to utter the words _Hydra’s here_ into his comms device before she’s at his elbow. She doesn’t even look at him, just orders what Ward manages to understand in his halting Portuguese as a vodka soda.

“So, Grant,” she begins with that smile that used to make his mouth dry and his palms sweaty. “What’s shaking?”

It’s so typical Skye that the ache in his chest almost starts up again before he pushes it down to his toes and into the floor in a vibration too subtle for most to detect. The quirk of her mouth tells him what he already knows - she’s not most people.

“Hail Hydra,” he says flatly. When she doesn’t answer, he raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t this where you tell me that you were never loyal to Hydra, only to Garrett?” But where she used to flinch at his mocking tone, she only shrugs.

“Things change, Grant,” she tells him breezily. “Besides,” she makes eye contact with him over her glass now and he should be used to the missing warmth in her gaze, he really should. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

_I_   _never_ _wanted_ _any_ _of this._ The thought comes to him unbidden, so instead he says, “What do you want, Skye?”

She pauses, taking a sip of her drink. He waits. He knows how she likes to play her game. “I thought it might interest you to know that your people are walking into a trap.”

Ward keeps his expression carefully neutral. “Is that so?”

Skye hums in response, swirling the drink in her hand ever so slightly as she gazes out over the dance floor. Ward’s aware that she has the eyes of every man within a twenty foot radius, and based on the small smirk playing at her lips, he’d wager she is, too.

Skye’s magnetic in a way that Ward’s never seen anyone match. It’s not just that she’s conventionally beautiful - it’s the life and energy that she has exuded since the day Ward met her three years ago. Skye has always seemed so young. It had taken months of training with her before he began to catch glimpses of the ghosts in her eyes.

He studies her face now, looking for traces of falsehood. But, as usual, he comes up with nothing. “And why would you tell me that?”

“Call it a common interest.”

“You and I have nothing in common,” the words spill out before he can stop them, venom dripping from every one.

Skye rolls her eyes. “Oh, stop. God, doesn’t it ever get boring up there on your high horse?” She shakes her head. “Take it or leave it, Ward. I really don’t care.”

And Ward has no sane reason to feel as if they’re back in the cargo hold on the Bus and she’s knocked the wind out of him for the third consecutive time in a day at these words. Just as he has no sane reason to press his hand to her back and push her down with him under the cover of the bar as a spray of bullets shatter the glass bottles on the shelves above them.

It would be absolutely crazy, after everything they’ve been through, to fight back-to-back through the chaos that ensues, to act as if he can trust her to have his six. It would be just plain foolhardy to send the bullet that’s headed for her in the opposite direction with a well-aimed vibration instead of letting it cut off Hydra’s current head. And it would be completely _nuts_ , if in the middle of the longest firefight of Grant Ward’s life, he catches her eye and a grin passes between them and just for a second, it feels exactly like the old days.

He’s always felt that sanity is a privilege, however. One that neither of them apparently has.

Ward has no other explanation for why he finds himself in a janitor’s closet of all places, with the mouth of the person he’s claimed to hate most in this world at his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist. All he knows in this moment is the scrape of her nails on his shoulder blades and the scent of her skin and _Skye, Skye, Skye._

Afterwards, she looks at him with the softest eyes she’s used on him in a while and tells him that nothing’s changed.

He believes her when she proceeds to knock him out with a swift kick to the head and leaves him to be found by his team handcuffed to a radiator with her lipstick still on his collar.

Ward can’t help but feel that while nothing’s changed, everything’s different.


End file.
